


Finally

by allamazall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Chamber of Secrets, F/M, Harry/Ginny - Freeform, Hogwarts Giant Squid, Hogwarts Sixth Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:18:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7297339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allamazall/pseuds/allamazall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternately: The Cove</p><p>Harry remembers the events following Gryffindor's win without him during his 6th year at Hogwarts. His time with Ginny takes them across the grounds and somewhere only they know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally

Ginevra Weasley might just be the closest thing to perfect I’ll ever see. Of course, she doesn’t want me saying that because then there’s no room for growth (“I want to always have new ways to be better than everyone else, you know” she stated matter-of-factly as she flipped her hair in a pastiche of her soon-to-be-sister-in-law).

We could’ve had months… years maybe

But what’s done is done. And the time turners are smashed.

So, because I don’t want to lose a single moment of our time to the realm of forgetting, I’m saving memories here, call it a Pensieve of Parchment if you will.

Then again, it seems impossible that that day, after the best quidditch match I didn’t see, won’t stick in my head forever. 

The robins and goldfinches were out for the season, reveling in the beams of light and shadow cast about by a merrily spinning ball of sun. The air flowed back and forth in a steady tide, each breath tempting the skin with a whisper of relief from the day’s warmth.

Quite honestly, it was too hot to be cliché. Some planet out there was probably in conflict with a passing star, trying to cheat us out of perfection. But we walked on unaware of that particular condemnation of fate.

Already I can’t remember what we talked about. Quidditch maybe. I remember her laugh and mine intertwining with the call of the birds and, once we neared the lake, the happy gurgles of the giant squid sliding through the water.

What stuck me, even between the jokes and sarcasm, was the way Ginny’s eyes would soften and tone would drop into a gentle calm before picking up again with whatever comedy then drew her fancy. I was forced to recall the face of a younger girl, tortured by the idea of loneliness to the point of connecting with a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul. This girl had to endure the guilt of being consumed and controlled. This girl was getting used to rejection and ignominy. This girl broke rules, yes, but was still forced to fly only in the dead of night. Until, that is, this girl let go without losing too much and began to grow accustomed to the subtle taste of glory.

These thoughts lead me to recall that I was a different boy back then. But then again, I wasn’t. I think a part of both of us remains trapped in that chamber. And a part of us will always remain here, in the glorious spotlight of a deserted quidditch field.

Not quite racing, not quite ignoring the competitive urge, we circled the pitch and dared the wind to chase us. Never mind the heat of the sun bearing down. Had it not been for the newness of our relationship and the splinter of insecurities that still pricked our sides we might never have come down. 

But, as curious onlookers became gradually bolder in their attempts to spy on us, Ginny signaled covertly to me to follow her off the field. She soared ahead of me, hair dancing against the collage of green and brown that formed the forest’s canopy. We shouted ourselves hoarse trying to keep up a conversation at match speed.

Suddenly, she pulled up short and I quickly followed suit. 

“Now, it’s no Chamber of Secrets mind you but I think you’ll like this place, Harry” she rasped. 

She pulled out her wand and managed some complex charm I could quite catch. Suddenly, a wooden door appeared in a shower of gold sparks.

“After you old Scarhead” she smiled.

Making sure to first give her a sceptical glance, just to make sure she knew that I wasn’t automatically going to applaud every incredible charm she pulled off from here on out, I reached for the simple door knob and entered the room.

I can’t fully describe the place in words and for the sake of our little secret I’m not gonna try. But I will say that the space inside was so humble that, with another companion, I might have mistaken it for ordinary and plain. But magic that enveloped it was nonetheless powerful enough to lead me to ask Ginny how on earth she came across such a place.

She shrugged. “People always say that magic leaves traces. You just have to be good enough at spotting it.”

When I pestered her further, she looked at me with a deeply serious expression and crossed her wand over her arm.

“Harry, doesn’t everyone go around muttering random words and waving wands around campus? Honestly, I’m getting concerned that you aren’t fulfilling your magical expectations.” She shook her head at me in mock-disappointment.

I snatched her wand before she could react and jumped onto my broom, tearing off towards the pitch which was empty once more. The instincts of a Chaser did not fail her, though, and soon we were neck in neck. Thus we left the Cove and began to play a much adapted version of quidditch until we both lost all count of the score.

But it was by no means the last time we saw that place. And by no means the last afternoon I don’t ever want to let go.


End file.
